


a little bit of everything (the way you joke, the way you ache)

by jessicamiriamdrew



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 10:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/pseuds/jessicamiriamdrew
Summary: every couple differs over some things, like what the correct topping is for latkes. paul and hugh are no exception.





	a little bit of everything (the way you joke, the way you ache)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themaelstromwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themaelstromwrites/gifts).



> title is from a little bit of everything by dawes, because i guess dawes is my discovery inspiration forever.
> 
> post canon but there are vague spoilers for the first half of season 1. implied more than anything else, but, to be safe.
> 
> mostly fluff but a dab of angst cause canon is angsty

“You’re the light of my life,” Paul says, sitting down across from Hugh. “I have literally put myself in harm’s way for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Hugh replies, resisting the urge to kick him under the table. He settles for nudging his foot.

“But,” Paul says, even as he leans in. “You’re about to do something unforgivable.”

Hugh pauses, fork with latke stabbed on it halfway to his mouth. “I’m Catholic. I don’t actually have to say the Jewish blessings before eating.” Which is weird, because if Paul is upset about that _now_ …

Paul snorts and Hugh is charmed even though he’s wary of what’s happening, if this is lingering side effects from the tardigrade DNA. “There’s apple sauce and sour cream on your plate.”

He looks down at his plate, where indeed there’s a dollop of both, although a bit smeared together since he’s eaten half the stack of latkes already.

“You can’t do _that_ ,” Paul says. “You can’t have both.”

Hugh brings the fork to his mouth and takes a deliberate bite, making sure Paul sees both the apple sauce and sour cream on the latke bit before he does. “You’ve tried every nonpoisonous mushroom you come across, even sometimes ones that give you hives.” There is not a universe, mirror, alternate, parallel, or otherwise, in which Paul does not make unsafe choices and Hugh doesn’t have to fret.

“That was once,” Paul says. “And that wasn’t ignoring thousands of years of tradition.”

“If I video comm your mother later, will she confirm that’s how old latkes are?” It’s not an empty threat—Hugh loves Paul’s mom like she could be his own mother.

Paul falters, and Hugh finds himself smiling again.

“The correct choice is apple sauce,” Paul says. “Sour cream is against the Torah.”

Hugh lets the fork clatter on the plate, sparing the half eaten latke a mournful glance, but he can’t argue with his mouth full. “That’s definitely not true. Channukah didn’t exist when the Torah was written.”

“Why did I end up with someone so smart,” Paul mutters. “You actually paid attention in Sunday school.”

He pushes the tray aside and reaches forward to grab Paul’s hands in his own. “I pay attention to _you_ ,” Hugh corrects gently. It still surprises him, somehow, how he can feel how much Paul loves him when they touch. Paul is constant, reassuring, and Hugh wants nothing more than to spend decades together, even if it is Paul needling him about food choices.

“And I would remember if latkes had come up when you explained the laws of kashrut to me,” Hugh finishes, pulling back one hand to grab his fork again.

“I love you,” Paul says, reaching out to touch Hugh’s hand en route to a fork. “You know that, don’t you?” It’s so earnest that it has Hugh switching into doctor mode, after months of worrying with every subtle personality shift. He takes a breath: everything is fine now. Paul smiles at him, soft again, softer than Hugh would’ve thought him possible of when they first met.

“I love you too,” he says, looking into the deep blue of Paul’s eyes.

They sit like that for a few quiet moments, halacha and latkes forgotten, and Hugh aches with the knowledge of the enormity of what he could have lost.

“But if you bring that sour cream and apple sauce abomination into our quarters, even Gd can’t help you,” Paul says.

“I’ll finish them here,” Hugh says, laughter threatening to bubble from his chest. “If you’ll wait.”

Paul smiles and sticks a finger into the apple sauce, popping the glob into his mouth. “You waited for me, so I think I can find it in my heart to return the favor.”

They aren't perfect--they can't be after what they've experienced in the war--but this is familiar, and that breeds hope.

**Author's Note:**

> paul stamets is jewish, hugh culber is catholic, and they're a beautiful interfaith couple, thanks,,
> 
> xoxo for andre who also supports this beautiful jewish and catholic couple
> 
> chag channukah sameach, happy fourth night!


End file.
